Day 272: Rickshaw Mafia

After a five hour bumpy, dusty bus ride we arrived to a deserted road outside the city of Ajmer. Our destination though was the nearby town of Pushkar, which meant catching another bus in Ajmer's city center a couple kilometers away. The only sign of life on the road was a line of rickshaws waiting for passengers.

I knew it would be an interesting time when the drivers ran to the approaching bus door, pushing and shoving each other for a better position to snag a customer. As we descended into the yelling, waving, pushing group we donned our "don't mess with us" faces and prepared to bargain hard. Very quickly all the local Indian passengers on the bus seemed to disappear and we were left standing with two English guys (the only other foreigners on the bus) and about 20 aggressive rickshaw drivers.

Immediately one driver, who seemed to be the leader of the pack, announced the fare would be 40 rupees. By his insistence to hurry to his rickshaw and lack of eye contact we were certain he was charging us way too much. But to be honest, we had no idea where we were or how far it was to the other bus. We hemmed and hawed not wanting to be overcharged for being ignorant foreigners. It was then I noticed a minibus containing all the Indian bus passengers. So this is where they had disappeared to. One of the British guys asked the driver if his bus was going to the bus station in town. Indeed it was. How much? Four rupees!

So we all gathered our packs and walked to the minibus amidst a shower of protests from the rickshaw drivers. They yelled things like, "You are not allowed on that bus!" or "It's not going to where you want to go!" When we looked undeterred they created a human wall and blocked our entrance onto the minibus, demanding the driver leave. We watched helplessly as our cheap, convenient option drove away.

We thought about walking but not knowing where we needed to go and night was falling, we just had to play along with these bullying rickshaw drivers. The British guys managed to talk a driver into a 20 rupee ride, jumped into the rickshaw and were gone.

Now Tim and I had to fend for ourselves. The leader told us we would never get the same fare. I stood back and watched Tim argue. Standing on the sidelines, I felt a poke in my ribs. A pudgy flirtatious rickshaw driver smiled and whispered he would take us for 20 rupees. I told Tim, who then pointed his finger at our new friend and declared defiantly to the whole group, "He will take us for 20 rupees!" A tornado of activity errupted around us. Fists flew up in the air as the other rickshaw drivers yelled at the dissenter. The scene looked like a disturbed hornet's nest. I think the helpful driver had broken some code of rickshaw ethics and overstepped some invisible boundary. Who knows.

When we hauled our packs into the rickshaw, another rickshaw was pulled up in front of it, blocking our exit. By this point we were laughing. The whole ordeal had become comical. I told the drivers I didn't care who took us, but we wouldn't go for more than 20 rupees. Our bags were transferred to another rickshaw and we were finally allowed to leave. As we pulled away we waved in relief and the mob of drivers waved back. It looked like a warped version of a sentimental farewell send-off. The ride to the other bus was uneventful and I was thankful we hadn't tried to walk.

Tim handed the 20 rupee note to our driver when we arrived at the other bus. The driver said, "No, the fare is twenty rupees for each of you." But there was a twinkle in his eyes and we all laughed.

It was a hard won fight - all over about 50 US cents!